


ghost, i know you live within me

by weslo



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, M/M, Ouija Boards, Sexuality Crisis, Underage Drinking, in which the author can't write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weslo/pseuds/weslo
Summary: ryan, a junior, meets shane, a senior. ghost hunting and shenanigans ensue.





	1. Sucker for Ghosts (And you, I guess)

_Come on, Ryan! It’ll be fun!_

_You need to get out more!_

_There will be lots of other students there!_

The voices of his new friends echoed through his head.  _Bullshit,_  he thought. There he was at that stupid party (alone, mind you) because his stupid friends left him. He felt like an idiot, standing all alone, staying towards the walls. He wanted to walk around and mingle but he just— he couldn’t. He didn’t know who to talk to. There were way too many people to choose from. They were all in little cliques, clutching onto their red solo cups as they laughed and cheered. He didn’t know which one to join in on, and even if he did, he didn’t know what to say. _Hi, I’m Ryan Bergara! I just moved here and some friends I recently met made me come to this dumbass party to meet some people but then they ditched me so now they’re unable to introduce me to everyone which means I have to do it myself but I really just want to go home._

Pathetic. 

He stared down at his second Bud Light and drank the rest down. He was still pretty new to drinking but he wasn’t sure if he could get through the night without it. While the roar of the party was drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears, he contemplated leaving, but figured that he might as well stick it out a little longer.

And he did.

Things weren’t necessarily going good as he still found himself in the same spot fifteen minutes later, but at least things were somewhat decent. He didn’t feel like a  _complete_ loser after introducing himself to a few passing people (“ _Hey man, I’m Ryan_.”)

He stood there for a little while longer then decided, yeah, he might as well just go home. Before he had time to act on his plan, it was almost on some kind of ridiculously cliche cue that he heard a voice that sounded slightly distorted near his left ear. 

“Hey.” The voice said.

Ryan turned his head to see a tall and lanky figure standing next to him. The guy was like, remarkably taller than him. Crazy tall. Intimidatingly tall. He wore a dark red flannel with black rimmed glasses and if Ryan were to squint he could see the slightest bit of facial hair. 

“Did you hear me?” The man spoke again, and Ryan immediately blushed, realizing that he was probably staring at him for too long.  _Shit._

“Yeah, sorry. Hey, I’m Ryan.” He raised his voice over the pounding music.

“Shane.” Said the boy, nodding his head politely but not bothering to shake his hand. “You look lonely.”

And wow, for some reason this ‘ _Shane_ ’ dude was  _really_ pissing off Ryan. Did he think he could just waltz right in and call him lonely? For some reason Ryan was just… inexplicably angry. The whole night. He was angry at his friends for leaving him. He was angry at himself for giving in and coming to the dumbass party in the first place. He was angry at Shane for saying that he looked lonely.

He mentally prepared some kind of snide comeback but the initial offense he took in Shane’s comment faded and Ryan suddenly didn’t feel angry anymore. Just like that. All he could do was laugh because, well, Shane was right. He was lonely. He was pretty damn lonely.

“What’s so funny?” Shane asked as he leaned against the wall and took a sip of his drink.

“Nothing.” Ryan said between a chuckle, “I guess you’re just right. I am pretty lonely.”

“Me too.”

The party continued on and so did chatter between Shane and Ryan. Throughout the night, Ryan found out a few facts about his new friend.  _Wait, were they friends?_  He didn’t know. Shane was a senior, he for some reason  _really_ hated his AP Psych teacher (he wouldn’t shut up about the ridiculous things that she’s done), he loved dogs, and oh, yeah, 

_He didn’t believe in ghosts._

“You  _don’t_ believe in ghosts?” Ryan was.... well, shocked. Terribly confused and outraged, but shocked nonetheless. There was something nice going on between him and Shane, but once this bomb was dropped, he didn’t even know what to think. He always had a thing for the whole paranormal shebang. It was a passion of his. He was terrified of spirits, so he learned absolutely everything he could about them and became completely absorbed into one of the most controversial questions of all time,  _are ghosts real?_

“Nope.” Shane replied casually, as if it were no big deal. “And I’m assuming you do?”

“Ghosts have become my  _life_.”

“Please tell me that’s an over-exaggeration.” 

“Yes, but isn’t it, I don’t know, cool? Shane, there’s been so many sightings and stories and—  man, aren’t you even a little fascinated?” Ryan was going full-on-geek. He didn’t even care anymore. Something about Shane made him feel secured. Not judged.

“Of course I’m fascinated. I don’t believe in them, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested. There’s just isn’t any sufficient evidence to back it up. It’s all circumstantial.”

“What about aliens?” Ryan asked, not really thinking about the point Shane just made. 

“Yes, I believe aliens are real. I just think a lot of the  _“It was aliens!”_  theories are laughable. I’m guessing you’re some kind of alien-ghost-enthusiast-buff?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean, aliens are— ”

“Wow.” Shane scoffed, “I’m  _really_ picking up some Fox Mulder vibes here.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

They laughed. It was good to be laughing.

“I’ll tell you what,” Shane began, “There’s an abandoned house literally a fifteen-some-minute walk from this place. Kids fool around in there and come out shitting themselves while claiming it's ‘haunted’. Want to go check it out?”

Anticipation and utter fear ran throughout Ryan’s veins, “No kidding?”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you moved here, this town is full of weird shit.”

Ryan couldn’t help but to laugh. He wasn’t quite sure at what. Maybe he was just happy. “So, what? We leave this party to go into some dude’s old house—"

“Some lady’s old house.” He cut him off and raised a finger. “And yes, this party sucks. Unless you’re too scared.”

Shane threw his cup in the garbage and began walking away.  _He’s probably just fucking with me,_  Ryan thought to himself. _He’ll probably pull some lame prank on me and record it or some shit._  The whole ordeal was too strange. A senior who probably wanted nothing to do with him invited him to leave a party to go to some ‘haunted house’ that just happened to be nearby. And Shane didn't even believe in that shit.

But Ryan did. 

Ryan was a sucker for ghosts.

And a sucker for Shane, apparently.

“Are you coming, Ryan?” Shane asked, looking over his shoulder. 

Fuck it. “Yeah.”

He guided his way through the crowd and followed Shane outside.  _Who cares if it's all one big joke?_ He just wanted to leave the party.


	2. I Believe in Rat-Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys do what they do best: hunt ghosts.

Shane had keys to a car (which Ryan assumed belonged to him) but they set off on foot ( _“Don’t drink and drive, Ryan.”_ )

Shane was right, the walk wasn’t a long one at all. They stood in front of the house with their phone flashlights illuminating a sign that read _NO TRESPASSING_

And yeah, Ryan had to admit to himself that he was scared. The place gave him-- he didn't’ know. Some kind of strange feeling that he didn’t like. Not one bit.

According to Shane, the house was literally just… abandoned. It sat in the middle of a poor neighbourhood scattered with houses that were partially destroyed and would’ve looked abandoned as well if it weren’t for the parked cars and muffled sounds of domestic families on a Friday night inside their living rooms.

“Nobody really knows what happened here,” Shane with his miraculously long legs was able to climb over the tall wooden fence as if it were no big deal and open the gate from inside for Ryan to enter, “But this is a pretty small town and, well, you know how it is. Rumours.”

“Right.” Ryan said, half listening, shining his flashlight around the yard littered with patches of dirt where grass no longer grew. He investigated the exterior of the home. He noticed an empty space where a window must have stood and stared down at the shattered remains of glass. “Yikes.”

A wooden swing that was tied to a tree creaked in the most haunted way and made him want to run. Then Shane spoke, his tone low and hoarse as if to purposely be dramatic. “Legend has it that a single mother lived here with her son. Her husband abandoned them to move to Canada while the boy was still very young and left them with this house. Not many years later, the boy became very sick and eventually died. They say his mother went crazy after that. Absolutely bonkers. And eventually, she killed herself,” Shane slid a hand onto the knob of the front door, “They both died. Here in this very house.”

The thought of a loving mother and son living here many years ago and tragically dying terrorized Ryan. “Jesus Christ.”

Then out of the blue, Shane began laughing so clearly and suddenly that it made Ryan yell. Shane laughed harder at that.

“God-- Fuck, Shane, don’t do that.” Ryan said, frantically fixing his hair and straightening himself out. Shane continued to laugh. “Stop laughing, asshole.”

“Oh my God!” Shane said between gasps and chuckles, “Are you actually scared right now?”

Ryan was then grateful for the dark, because as Shane continued to laugh at him, he felt his face going red. How was this dude not scared right now? Ryan decided to ask him.

“Because, Ryan,” Shane began after finally collecting himself, “It’s obviously bullshit. Some old lady probably just died of old age in a rocking chair or something. Like I said, this is a small town. Rumors go around.”

Ryan began laughing a little nervously himself, “Right.” He said, trying to clear his head and take steady breaths, “Right. Just rumours.”

“Just rumours.” Shane repeated, then shined his phone in Ryan’s face, “Ready to go in?”

“Yeah.” 

All thoughts of Shane just screwing with him had left his mind without him even noticing. Even though he hadn’t entered the house yet and was already scared shitless, he found himself having fun. Actually enjoying himself. The night was really taking a positive turn… well, despite the fact that a demon was probably going to rip his chest open or something. 

He just spent the entire summer in fear. Fear of moving to this stupid town. Like anyone, Ryan didn’t want to leave a place he had already settled down in. He didn’t want to leave his friends, his school, his home. After finally moving in late August, September rolled by quickly and he started his Junior year at his new high school. Even with a few friends he met in some of his classes during the first couple of weeks (the ones who ditched him, mind you) he felt… lonely. But right then, a lot of that loneliness was gone, and he had a stupid tall kid to thank.

To Ryan’s surprise (but not Shane’s, apparently), the door was unlocked. It made the most horrendous creaking noise as the two of them stepped inside.

“Are you spooked, Ryan?” Shane mocked him.

Yes. “Shut up.”

It was so, so dark. Ryan hated it. The first thing their flashlights shined upon was a small pile of rodent feces.

“Hey, Ryan. Do you think there are rat-ghosts in here?”

“Well--”

“Wait, don’t answer that.”

Shane walked deeper into the home, but Ryan stayed near the front door. The place was seriously giving him the creeps. He discovered some cobwebs, insects, broken glass, and a lot of dust.

“Come on, Ryan!” Shane shouted from the center of the living room. Ryan gulped hard and stepped deeper inside until he was at the taller boy’s shoulder.

“Any ghosts in here?” Shane pivoted around the room. His light shone upon a broken chair, an empty bookshelf, a lot of cardboard boxes, and furniture covered in white sheets. There were gaps in the floorboards and areas where wallpaper was helplessly peeling. “Come on,” Shane shouted again, “Make yourselves known, ghosties!”

“Don’t antagonize them.” Ryan said quietly. 

Shane began moving around again as a frightened Ryan followed right behind him. “Show me a sign. Why don’t you come out here and, I don’t know, do a little dance? Or why don’t you, like, give Ryan the chills? He’s a big fan of you guys. He’s a real ghost nut.”

It was then the noise of a chair scraping across the floor came from behind them. Ryan jumped and clutched Shane’s arm without realizing. He was too frightened to speak. We have to get out of here, we have to get out of here. The words sat on his tongue but he felt too frozen to say them aloud.

“Was that you, Mr. Ghost?” Shane asked, turning around and shining his light in the direction of the noise. There was nothing there besides a chair.

The two were silent for a long time. Ryan tried to calm his erratic breathing by copying Shane’s even breaths. How was he seriously not scared? Shane was a gigantic douche and made Ryan feel like an idiot. On the other hand, though, a part of Ryan was grateful that Shane was so calm, because he’d probably be pissing himself by now if he was alone or if Shane was equally as afraid as he was.

“Ryan, dude,” Shane said finally, “You’re literally digging your nails into my arm.”

Oh. Ryan let go. 

“Seriously, chill. It was just the wind.”

Ryan’s voice croaked, “That was the sound of a chair moving. It wasn’t the wind, it was a freaking ghost!” He couldn’t shake off the spine-tingling feeling of someone watching them.

“Wind. It was a draft entering through that broken window.” Shane pointed a finger at the empty space directly above Ryan’s so-called ‘moving chair’. 

“I don’t care, I want to get out of here.”

And they did. As the two of them returned to the location of the now dead party, they continued to argue about what really caused the noise. Ryan stuck with his paranormal theory, whereas Shane remained skeptical. When they got to Shane’s car, he offered him a ride home which Ryan accepted immediately because, well, he had no clue what happened to his friends. 

During the drive, Shane interrupted Ryan’s direction-giving to propose an idea. “How about we go back there sometime and bring my Ouija Board?”

“But you don’t believe in that stuff.”

“True. It's the ideomotor effect that makes you move the planchette, but hey, it’ll be fun. Besides, watching you get scared is absolutely hilarious.”

Ryan had to think about it, but not for very long. “Yeah, okay.”

When they reached Ryan’s house, Shane entered his number into Ryan’s phone and said goodbye.

 

The next morning, Ryan had the name Shane on his lips.


	3. GAG!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shane and ryan meet fergi,

Saturday and Sunday rolled by and Ryan had to admit that the weekend was strange. Strange, strange, strange. Ryan felt strange. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Shane and he didn’t understand why. _Should I text him? Should he text me first? What do I say? What do I do? Oh God, I’m going to fuck this up, aren’t I?_

Here’s the thing, when it came to any type of relationship, Ryan wasn’t really a clingy dude. He didn’t put everything he had into friendships. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his friends, it was just that… he didn’t know. Even back in his old town, he never felt like he had friends. _Real_ friends. Sure, he’d hang out with some guys that he missed once he moved, although he never felt like he 'clicked' with them. 

But it was alright because, in the end, Ryan didn’t really mind being alone. Besides, when he was with his old friends, he was frequently maintaining this ‘chill guy’ persona he created. Realistically, Ryan was _not_ actually a chill guy-- not even remotely. Well… with the ghosts theories and all, it made sense that he felt a tad bit out of place.

Person, persona. It’s funny how big of a difference one vowel can make.

His persona was the exact opposite of who he really was. It was just him mirroring the personalities of everyone in his little old ‘friend group’. Sure, he didn’t lie to them about everything, but ultimately, he couldn’t be him. He couldn’t unwind and be his _true_ self around others.

His person? His _true_ self? He was just a boy, how the _hell_ was he supposed to know who he truly was yet? He liked freaky paranormal garbage (that’s what his mother called it, anyway) and that might as well have been considered his principal personality trait. If his dumbass ghost craze got around, people would think he was some kind of loser-- some kind of _freak_. Everyone would be elbowing him and saying _‘Hey, freak!’_ or calling him Fox Mulder or something. He didn’t want that.

(“I’m _really_ picking up some Fox Mulder vibes here.”) He recalled Shane’s comment from Friday night and for some reason, it didn’t bother him. Somehow, someway, Shane was different.

That was it. That was why he couldn’t get Shane off his mind. He was different than other people-- he went to an abandoned house with him, they laughed, he drove him home-- it was… _good_. It was enjoyable. He had fun with a guy and didn’t feel the need to maintain a persona. He was himself. He loved that.

And Shane was just-- he didn’t want to dwell on it. He felt like Shane got him. _Really_ understood him. Or maybe he didn’t. Whatever. Really, Ryan just felt relieved that in a slightly intoxicated state of mind he discussed his main passion with someone and they were… okay. Shane was okay with it. And on top of it all, he was a skeptic, yet he was still fine with it all. Fine with Ryan being weird. Fine with Ryan being Ryan.

He didn’t just think about Shane over the weekend.

It was Thursday morning. He had not received any texts from Shane, nor had he see him around school. _Maybe he was an alien or even a demon_ , Ryan imagined. _One that went from one high school party to another, taking boys to haunted houses, then disappearing without a trace and allowing the cycle to repeat itself._ That made Ryan chuckle somewhat, causing a few people in the hallway to shoot him perplexed and bitter glances. He continued on to his English class.

English class. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. On analyzation packets, he always found himself writing _yes_ , then _no_ , then _maybe_ , then _yes_ again. At least in math, there could only be one right answer. But sometimes he liked thinking outside of the box and getting to express his opinion instead of just writing down random numbers that did nothing except make his head spin. 

He was currently working on Shakespeare’s _Hamlet_ , and as the majority of the class groaned at any mention of the play, Ryan didn’t mind it too much. He related to Hamlet and thought his dad was a pretty cool dude. You know, coming back as a ghost and all. _Kudos to King Hamlet_ , he thought. 

During a tedious class of AP World History, Ryan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He discreetly checked the text, looking up at his teacher who seemed to literally be sleeping.

**Shane** : _whats up_

He felt a wave of comfort hit him when he saw Shane’s name and didn’t exactly understand why.

**Ryan** : _Class_

**Shane** : _are you busy tomorrow?_

**Ryan** : _Not really_

**Shane** : _is our ouija board plan still on?_

Ryan had to pretend to think about even though he unquestionably did not have to.

**Ryan** : _Sure_

It took a few minutes until Shane replied again,

**Shane** : _cool i’ll pick you up when it gets dark tomorrow night. should i text you when i'm on my way?_

_When it gets dark?_ Ryan's doubt kicked in.

**Ryan** : _What do you mean by when it gets dark?_

**Shane** : _oh sorry ryan! i forgot your amygdala shrieks at you with every breath you take_

Shane sent another text.

**Shane** : _do you wanna do it during the day??? should i bring a nightlight???_

**Ryan** : _Asshole. Pick me up tomorrow night._

**Shane** : _k_

Cool. So Shane isn't a demon. So playing with a Ouija board in an abandoned house on a Friday night with a boy he just met is a thing that is happening. Alright. 

The last bell rang. School was over and after a few minutes of helplessly navigating his way to an exit that was literally on the other side of the building that he wasn't quite familiar with yet, he was outside and walking home. 

The leaves were finally beginning to change color and Ryan watched a few as they drifted swiftly to the ground and let the breeze escort them around. He liked autumn. 

\--- 

Before Ryan knew it, he was back in that fucking house and sitting on the living room floor across from Shane. His phone read _11:23 PM_. The only source of light in the residence was the glowing full moon and yeah, like last time, Ryan was scared shitless. 

He looked up to Shane who wore a jacket that was ideal for the autumn weather along with black jeans. He then looked down from Shane’s worn down Vans, past his crossed legs, and up to his face. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he messed with a lighter while lazily raking a hand through his unwashed hair. He looked exhausted and Ryan wondered what he was up to during the past week that wore him out so much. 

“Fuck me.” Shane muttered, breaking the short-term silence, “I think this lighter is broken.” 

“What do you need it for anyway?” Ryan asked. 

“To light the bong in my bag, Ryan.” Shane glanced up at him and Ryan said nothing. He figured he was displaying a startled expression because Shane chuckled and said, “God, I’m just kidding. I need it to light the candles I brought with me.” 

A few moments later, Ryan laughed a little himself and Shane asked him what was so funny. 

“It’s just that kids would probably take hits in a place like this, yet here we are using a _fucking_ Ouija board.” 

“That’s because you're weird, Ryan.” Shane said simply with a smirk. 

“Shut up. This was your idea anyway, so that makes you weird too.” 

Shane shrugged and continued to fiddle with the lighter. After a few failed attempts to flick it on, he nodded his head towards his backpack and without looking up he said, “I might have matches in there. Can you check?” 

Ryan nodded then crawled over to Shane’s bag. While he began to unzip it, he felt as if he was unzipping a layer of Shane. Maybe there were things in his school bag that would shine light upon who he was. Well, Ryan did know who he was. He was Shane. But who _was_ Shane? Who _really_ was his new friend, Shane Madej? 

He found a few packets of small candles, and with his teeth, he tore open the plastic and pushed them to Shane’s side. 

Among torn papers, crumbs, and other elements that you’d find in a stereotypical seventeen-year-old boy's backpack (at least Ryan assumed he was seventeen), he came across a pocket knife and several psychology textbooks. Literally a shitload of them were in there. When Ryan recovered the matches, he slid them to Shane who finally took his focus off the lighter.

While Ryan zipped his backpack back up, he looked at Shane. “You must _really_ like studying psychology.

“I do.” Was all he said in response. And there. Ryan got what he wanted: some insight on who Shane was.

After a few minutes of being taunted by Shane who got out the Ouija board and lit a circle of candles around them, they were ready to begin. 

“You really are an idiot Ryan. You know that, right?”

Ryan, with fear pulsing throughout him, asked why. 

"Well, I mean, you know this is going to be bogus. You know this isn’t real.”

Ryan grew defensive as he habitually did with that sort of stuff, “No. Shane, look. This isn’t just a game, okay? This is opening a portal to demons and other entities to come through. Be respectful and take it seriously. Also stop teasing me, you gigantic ass.” 

“Ideomotor effect, Ryan. Ouija boards have been attributed to the phenomenon and it’s your subconscious that spells out the bullshit words.” Shane shot back as he rubbed his hands together.

Yeah, whatever. There’s no way my subconscious can come up with some of the shit these boards have told me before.”

Shane scoffed. “Alright, let’s just do this.”

They both went silent for a moment. As ridiculous as he felt, Ryan couldn’t help but ask Shane a question. “Is there any way we could get like, salt or something?”

That made Shane burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you’re scared, dude. If anything I’m having a blast.” The last part was him being facetious. 

“I’m not scared!” Ryan was going to have to say that at least a hundred times to convince both himself and Shane that it was the truth. It definitely wasn’t. Ryan was almost shaking.

“Okay, okay.” Shane waved an arm, “Let’s do it.” 

Ryan let all the air out of his lungs in a shaky exhale as he replied with an unconfident _okay_. The house was even more disturbing than last time and he was beginning to have second thoughts on this whole idea. 

“Take my hands, Ryan.” Shane said calmly as he reached his hands out across the board. Ryan swallowed hard and suddenly the spirits that they were about to contact weren’t his only fear. Perspiration trickled down his forehead and his hesitation must have been obvious because Shane gave him a weak smile.

“It’s to summon the spirits.”

Ryan nodded and took Shane’s hands into his own. They were ice cold as opposed to Ryan’s that were shaking slightly and sweating with dread.

Shane closed his eyes and even though the sight of the candles illuminating the room was comforting, Ryan did the same and ventured into the world of oblivion behind his eyelids. He heard Shane speak, his voice low and smooth and as calm as ever.

“ _Spirits, hear our cry. We summon you to the other side, come to us and cross the great divide._ ”

They opened their eyes and let go of each other’s hands. Shane had a smirk on his face and Ryan couldn’t help but think about what a huge idiot he was-- learning a chant for dramatic effect when he was a skeptical piece of trash. Shane arranged the planchette on the letter G and the two of them tenderly planted both of their index fingers on it. 

They locked eyes as Shane spoke. “Is there anyone here with us? Tell us your name or a funny ghost joke or something.”

“Shane!” Ryan warned, which prompted an eye roll from the boy across from him. 

He tried again. “Fine, I’m sorry. Is there anyone here with us?” 

There were a few flashes of nothingness. Just their breathing and completely still digits on the frozen planchette. Though it didn’t stay still for long. Ryan felt it begin to move underneath him.

_G… A… G...._

“Is that all?” Ryan asked as it stopped moving. 

Shane snorted, “ _Gag_. Ryan, it spelled out _gag_.”

“Shut up, Shane. Spirit, can you tell us your name?”

It moved agonizingly slow to letters that eventually spelled out _Fergi_.

“Hello, Fergi.” They both said in unison. Before either of them could ask another question, it began moving again.

_G… O… D…_

“ _God_.” Ryan repeated. “Shane, stop fucking with me.” 

He looked him dead in the eyes. “I’m not moving it. Well, I mean my subconscious might be, given how this is bullshit, but I didn’t spell that out on purpose. As funny as it may be watching you nearly shit yourself, I’m not going to do anything consciously, okay? I promise. Besides, that just takes away the fun of the game. Do you trust me?”

Ryan nodded slightly. “...Yes, I trust you.” 

“Okay, good. Let’s enjoy this fun little game.”

“It’s not a game.” Ryan muttered under his breath.

“Whatever you say, man." Shane smirked, "Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY YOU READ THIS i am working on another chapter and there will probably be a few more after that as i have a lot of ideas sorry


	4. We Just Met and Now We're Summoning Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shane and ryan chat with fergi some more :0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fucmkg im sorry you have to read this

Playing with a Ouija board in a dark abandoned home near midnight was not something Ryan ever imagined himself ever doing. Fear truly began to settle throughout him and he really wanted to back out. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run out and never come back again. But Shane was there, and Shane was calm, so Ryan sucked in as much air as he could in a deep inhale to chill out. If Shane wasn’t scared, he wasn’t going to be scared. He could do it. 

“Fergi,” Shane began with a voice that wasn’t entirely serious, “Are you a nice spirit?”

Fergi, or rather the board, answered _yes_

“Ask the ghost a question, Ryan.” Shane spoke after a brief moment of silence.

“Okay.” Ryan looked away from Shane’s casual expression and down to the board. “What year did you die?”

With Ryan’s shaky fingers and Shane’s steady hands, the planchette glided over the number _1912_. He then looked up to Shane who seemed to be snickering to himself.

“You’re moving it, you twat.” Ryan spat.

“I’m not!” 

“Then why are you laughing?”

Shane took a few deep breaths and managed to stop himself. With a grin he said, “I just can’t this seriously.”

Ryan glared at him. “Okay, just as a test, Fergi, tell me something about myself that Shane wouldn’t know.”

The planchette was still and then spelled out _dentist_.

“What does that mean?” Shane raised an eyebrow.

“Well, my dad’s a dentist.”

“Okay, so now you know I’m not moving it!”

 _Oh, right._ Shane knew nothing about Ryan’s father, and if Shane didn’t spell that then that could only mean--

“Holy shit!” Ryan exclaimed. “Shane! This is a fucking _ghost!_ ”

Shane began to laugh harder than Ryan’s ever seen him. “Jesus Christ, you really are crazy! It’s your subconscious! I didn’t know that your dad was a dentist, but you did. Your conscious knew.”

Ryan swallowed hard, “No! I didn’t move it! I didn’t spell that out!”

“You didn’t spell that out on _purpose >_.”

The boys continued to ask the apparent spirit known as ‘Fergi’ questions. Occasionally Shane would toss an insult around which led to Ryan nearly screaming at him.

Fergi died at seventeen. He lived in another state and never completed school. His father was a lawyer and his mother tragically died when he was only eight and he supposedly died in some sort of rock slide; you know, normal Ouija-board-spirit stuff. Nothing unusual occurred until Shane asked a question that turned their interrogation completely around.

“Are there demons? Do they exist? Have you met one?”

The planchette didn’t move for a few moments. Ryan looked up at the sweat on Shane’s forehead illuminated by the candlelight. The planchette then moved very, very quickly to the letters _Z, O, Z, O_. Ryan gasped.

“Shane! Fuck! Not Zozo!”

He expected Shane to giggle but instead he looked seriously into his eyes and with curiosity laced within his vocal chords he asked “Zozo?” 

“A Ouija demon. A cruel and sadistic one. Not one you want to fuck with.”

“See? You _know_ about him. Your subconscious does. We aren’t actually speaking to a demon.”

“Shane,” Ryan tried to keep a steady tone, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Wanna end the session?”

Ryan had to think about it. “Not yet.” He could do it. Shane was right, it was just his subconscious.

They then looked down to see the piece of plastic beneath their fingers tracing figure eights across the board. 

“This isn’t good.” Ryan said as he stared down in fear.

And there it was, that noise. That stupid fucking noise Ryan heard the first time he was there. The sound of a chair scraping. 

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Ryan shouted and slided down to _goodbye_. They set the planchette aside.

Shane was laughing. That son of a bitch. 

“Fucking hell, dude. Stop laughing.”

That made Shane snort. “Your face-- you should see your face!”

Ryan was still breathing heavily. “You dick. You moved it!”

“No, I didn’t.” He said with a chuckle, “But man, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

And then Ryan was laughing too. “For the record, you _did_ seem interested in Zozo.”

“I never said that I didn’t believe in demons.”

“Wait? So you do?”

Shane shrugged. “All I’m saying is that it’s not completely impossible, unlike your stupid ghosts.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

And then there was silence. Ryan tried to calm his breathing down by listening to Shane as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. He felt blood pulsing throughout him and as terrified as he was in that moment, he had to admit that he didn’t mind feeling the fear. As long as Shane and him were both laughing and enjoying themselves, it was actually really fun. Besides, talking to ghosts was really cool. Horrifying, but really fucking cool.

At some point, Ryan ended up unintentionally gazing into Shane’s eyes while he was still slightly giggling. The sight of his vivid brown irises were captivating and Ryan felt himself beginning to become mesmerized by them. He watched Shane’s pupils dilate and he then realized Shane was looking at him too. Candlelight flickered across his face making the small amount of brown facial hair around his lips very vivid. And when the realization of the awkwardness finally kicked in, it caused him to look down-- anywhere but Shane’s probing eyes. He hoped to God he wasn’t blushing. 

And that was what was on his mind the following day. Not the house, not Zozo, not Fergi, but Shane. Shane’s eyes, Shane licking his lips as he studied the board and--

What the fuck are you thinking, Ryan? He didn’t-- he didn’t like Shane. He just met him. He was just excited to have a friend; to have a person in his life who got him. That was all. End of story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM REALLY SORRY this chapter was extremely rushed and definitely not my best work. its really repetitive and boring and has grammar mistakes and too much dialogue im really sorry


	5. Life is Meaningless... Let's Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is back!

A long time passed. A time that consisted of failed tests, ouija boards, and simply _Shane_.

Another thing Ryan liked about his friend was, well, his _Shane-ness._ His quirks and habits had a sort of independence that made Ryan feel like less of an outcast, and although he was supposed to be studying for classes, he found himself studying Shane.

Shane spent most of his time reading. He wanted to study philosophy and enjoyed observing humans. He had a _fucking stupid_ fashion sense and ridiculous hair. He seemed to be proud of the little stubble he had, and sometimes Ryan wondered what it would feel like against his lips. Platonically. 

Ryan, a kid who jumped from interest to interest like some ADHD enthused ape, was falling into a passion for photography. He’d take pictures of Shane, and when Shane said he didn’t like looking at photos of himself, Ryan pointed out all his features, describing them positively and enthusiastically. That was the first time he had saw his pale friend turn red. 

They’d visit abandoned buildings, which had become a hobby for the two. They wanted to save up for an EVP recorder. One day, Ryan asked him why Shane was doing all of this if he didn’t believe in ghosts.

It was one of those rare times he saw Shane, who seemed to be confident even for an introverted guy, stammer a little. “I - I like the scenery of the places we see. Uh, they make good pictures. I -”

Ryan had to laugh, “No you don’t, you big idiot.”

They were both laughing when Ryan said, “Just admit it. You like me.”

Shane shrugged, and with a smile and a shrug he said, “Yeah, I like you, Ryan.”

\---

It was the first time Ryan had been to Shane's house and he finally understood why Shane was so hesitant to talk about his home life or invite him over.

It was a small, worn down home in what Ryan heard was the most dangerous part of town. When he entered, he felt as if he were entering an abandoned building. It was dark - the blinds all drawn and the place filled with a sort of negative energy. 

"It's a fucking embarassment." Shane said as he escorted him through the living room.

It reaked of cigarattes and it seemed as if almost evey clean surface was piled with empty cans of alchohol. Shane avoided talking about his parents as much as he could and Ryan felt that sadly, this alone said enough. 

"I'm really sorry," Shane said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his own neck, stopping halfway up the stairs. Ryan continued past him, repeating that it was fine.

"I wanted to invite you over a long time ago, it's just hard to find a time when both my parents are out. It would look weird to them, especially my dad, bringing you 'round here. They'd get the wrong idea. They're very, uh - I don't want them assuming anything. Scared of how they'd react."

Ryan understood too well what he meant, and it hurt him that he didn't know what to say. He offered him nothing more than an apologetic smile, and at the top of the stairs, the two felt helpless.

Ryan looked into his eyes for a long time. "You don't have to explain yourself, Shane. I know you're better than this," He gestured to the bottom of the stairs, "Better than them."

That was really all that could say. Shane nodded, then led him to a room. 

"This is my room," He chuckled a little weakly, "The only room I can tolerate being in."

Ryan walked in behind him. It was very confined but cozy - nothing like the rest of the home. It consisted of a desk, a bed, and a bookshelf. For a room so brief, it carried miraculous personality to it. It was very Shane-esque. The shelves were full of philosophy books, but Ryan specifically noticed the bookmarked book on Shane's sheets. He picked up it up and sat on his bed. 

Shane studied him from the doorway as he flipped through the pages.

"What's this?" Ryan asked.

“ _The Stranger._ ”

“By that French philosopher?”

“Mm. Albert Camus.”

Shane walked over, sitting next to Ryan and taking the book from him. Their hands brushed and, for the love of God, why did every little touch make Ryan want more?

"I like Camus the most, probably. His theory of absurdism." Shane was calm again. Himself. Their thighs were pressed together.

"What's absurdism?" They both turned to face each other at the same time. Their faces were inches apart.

Shane laughed, "I'm going to send you into the same existential depression I've been in for years."

"I'd join you in the void." Ryan replied. It may have been humour, but it was also genuine. He'd follow Shane anywhere.

Shane looked back down at the book in his hands, "Life. It has no meaning or purpose - we aren't here for a reason." He brought his face close to Ryan's again, "The only thing we can do is apply our own meaning."

Ryan had to choose his next words very, very carefully. But that was hard, because he felt his brain shut off and his heart take the controls as he spoke barely above a whisper, “If there’s no… If there isn’t any meaning to the world, besides what we give it, of course, then can I kiss you? Just to apply my own meaning?” 

Shane seemed calmer than ever as they leaned even closer to each other, “I’d quite like that. For the sake of meaning, of course, Bergara.”

Their lips collided and the kiss they shared was chaste and sweet and oddly intimate as if there really _were_ meaning to it. Ryan closed his eyes and sighed, tangling a hand in Shane’s already askew hair. It was good. It was better than good - he couldn't find a word to describe it. Shane's lips on his own was recieving something he had been craving for longer than he knew. He tasted wonderful, he felt wonderful, and he was wonderful. Absolutely. And yes, his stubble against his skin made it all the better.

They broke apart and with sheer hunger, they both dove in again. The kiss escalted to something intensely passionate. Ryan's tongue probed the inside of Shane's mouth, exploring him, and this must have been one of the final steps to unlocking who he was. 

The feelings were hidden but always there. All the times Ryan would look at him, he wanted nothing more than to kiss the fuck out of him, but he repressed it. He couldn't repress it any longer.

The kiss was miraculously better than the ones he shared with girls at his old school, it was if applying calmity to the chaotic and purposeless universe Shane told him they lived in. 

Shane kissed him again, and again, and again. Ryan lifted up Shane's hoodie and splayed his hands underneath his shirt, feeling his chest. For a guy so tall and scrawny, he was nicely built and felt right. He also liked how _warm_ Shane was. He had seemed so cold to Ryan, when they'd brush hands.. Ryan couldn’t help but let out a low and throaty moan which made the corner of Shane’s mouth twist up in a somewhat devious way. Ryan still found himself wanting _more_. He wanted to touch Shane everywhere, he wanted to explore him. That was when they heard the sound of a door slamming from downstairs.

They immediately pulled apart, straightening their clothes and fixing their hair. Shane's lips were swollen-looking and his face was flushed - it was an incredible sight, but Ryan had to redirect his brain.

"If that's my mom, we're good. If that's my dad, we're fucked." Shane said breathlessly.

The two silently went down the stairs, trying to slip out without being noticed. Of course, of _fucking_ course, they found themselves in front of Shane's father.

"This is Ryan," Shane explained to him, but the shakiness in his voice was undeniably there. "He was dropping off some papers and explaining them to me."

The man eyed them both.

"We were just leaving, dad." Ryan had never heard Shane sound so small.

"You mean, _he_ was just leaving. You can stay here."

Shane turned to Ryan, his eyes pleading for him to just go. Ryan simply nodded, waved goodbye to Shane's father who didn't care to wave back or even acknowledge him, and slipped out the door.

He shoved his hands his pockets and braced himself against the rain. It took everything in him to resist the temptation to grab Shane and take him out of there. Ryan had just learned two things: he absolutely _loved_ kissing Shane, and that his dad did everything in his power to isloate him. 

If there was a God, Ryan had prayed to him that this wasn't the end. His mind was filled with dreadful thoughts - what if Shane didn't want to see him again after this? What if it was all a mistake? Maybe he didn't want to be with Ryan. Maybe he didn't want to dishonour his stern father. 

His mind didn't want to think about anything longterm. He just wanted to kiss Shane again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that although these characters are real people, nothing should be considered accurate. they are essentially fictional.


End file.
